Pride and bruises
by musicfanatic122
Summary: (My first fanfic) England is abusive of America; but what happens when France finds out? Pre Revolutionary war period. FrUS (or UkUS if you want to look at it that way). Yaoi, don't like don't read.
1. Chapter 1

England, a nation of nations. He conquered the whole world and showed no mercy. He did as he pleased with no regrets. But his pride became something more. He craved control, possession and power. As far as his colonies were concerned that was all he ever cared about. He became a monster; and a certain colony of his was fed up with it.

"America!" An angry Britain yelled.

"What?" America asked.

"What do you mean 'what'!? Where have you been.?!" A now infuriated England screeched.

"Outside." America replied.

"And where outside?" England asked.

"Oh you know, just outside." America said nervously.

"Don't lie to me!" Britain replied violently.

"Alright, I visited another country okay?!" America yelled, tears forming in his eyes.

"Who?!" England asked in a loud tone.

"France..." America said quietly.

"You what?!" Britain yelled furiously.

"I said I visited France." America replied.

"I can't believe you visited that bloody bastard! England Screeched.

Before America could respond, he felt a cold hand slap his cheek causing him to lose his balance. In a weak attempt to fight back, America tried to get up from the cold, hardwood flooring but to no avail. He felt an angry Britain kick him in the stomach, which sent him crashing into the wall. America tried to get up once more, only to be punched in the face.

"England, why are you doing this?" America asked, trying not to cry.

"Because you won't bloody listen!" England Screamed.

England picked him up by his shirt collar, America tried to get out of his grasp but he was in too much pain to do so. England, infuriated, threw the young colony across the room, only for him to slam into another wall. The pain was agonizing, his body was struggling to stay awake. His eyes slowly shut, his soft breathing was the only thing indicating that he was even in the land of the living. His clothes were bloody. He was bruised from head to toe. It was a painful sight to see.

"Now to find that bloody bastard." England said with a sadistic smirk on his face.

France thought it was just another ordinary day as he sat in the front room in his house, drinking wine. Seeing as it was sunny outside France went to open the window, to his surprise he saw England walking twoards the front door of his home. _'What is Angleterre doing here?' _France thought to himself as he went to open the door.

"Bonjour." France said opening the door.

"Cut the hospitality crap I need to know why my colony was even within a twenty mile radious of you." England replied impatiently.

"Oh you mean Amerique? I just saw him out my window, he looked like he needed company; so I invited him inside." France said.

"Listen man whore if you ever do so much as look at my colony again I will slit your throat and drink the blood from your cold, dead, useless body got that?!" England said enraged.

"Why don't you let Amerique make companionships with who he wants? He's not your puppet like you tell him." France said coldly.

"Because he's my property! I can do whatever I want with him which does not include him having companionships with weak, uncultured barbarians like yourself!" England Yelled.

"I'll have you know that I have more culture than you will ever have." France said with a sharp tone in his normally calm voice.

"That doesn't change the fact that he is my bitch. I can make him do anything for me whether he wants to or not; because if he doesn't then I beat him. He is my slave and I am his master and there is nothing you can do about it."

"You are a sick bastard, Angleterre."

"Like I didn't know that already." England said, chuckling.

"Where is he?" France asked worried.

"Back at my house, crying like a bitch."

"What did you do to him?!" France cried.

"What do you think?"

Back at the house America was sobbing as he cleaned his own blood off the walls. He couldn't stop thinking about what happened, all he wanted was to forget; just for a little while. It was all so sudden, that slap in the face, he remembered the fresh sting it brought as tears rolled down his face once more. He heard a door creak and some footsteps, England was home.

"Hi England." America said in the most cheerful way he could.

"You are never to see him again, Understood?" England replied coldly.

"Y-Yes B-Britain." America stuttered.

"Good, now off to bed with you." England Ordered in the same tone.

"Yes Britain." America said as he ran off to his room.

France was worried about the young colony. His heart was pounding in his chest as he was pacing around in his bedroom. He didn't know what was going to happen. All he knew was that he wasn't going to rest easy.

America looked out the window wishing to escape. He was tired of telling himself that England would change. He was tired of missing who England used to be. He didn't know what he did to deserve his fate but, alas this is how it was. It didn't have to be this way, him cleaning his own blood off the walls. He had enough of the abuse England gave him. He wanted to leave, to run away like he longed to do. But something always stopped him. It wasn't the fact that he would get beaten if he found out. It wasn't the fact that he had no power himself. It was those words he always told himself 'England will change'. They repeated over and over in his mind. He only wished those words were true.

He thought of France and how well he treated him. As if he was precious to him. As if he loved him. America wanted to feel that way again. He looked at the window once more, as he started to cry. He had a choice to make. He wanted to be with France and the love that he gave him. He wanted to feel like he mattered, like he deserved affection. But yet he couldn't live without the bruises England gave him. He couldn't live without the tears he brought when he yelled at him. He couldn't live without the constant pain he had in his heart. But yet he wanted that same pain to leave him. He knew if he left he could never return, but he had to. He just couldn't take the pain anymore. As much as he craved the agony, he was worn. He was tired of crying every night.

He walked towards his window, his hands trembled slightly as he opened it. He quickly jumped out and without looking back he ran...


	2. Chapter 2

The rain fell hard as the young man ran on the wet, slippery ground. The wind blew hard making the trees rustle and the leaves fall. The night sky was dark and cloudy, not a single light shined that evening. He couldn't see a thing but continued trembling on to his destination. His boot's were worn and falling apart, his clothes were torn and stained with blood. His whole body ached, but he continued to run. He had to run...

France lied awake in his bed, still feeling uneasy from his confrontation with England. Feeling the urge to get out of his room for a while, he slowly lifted the burgundy sheets off of his body and stepped onto the hardwood floor. He opened the door, his hand shaking slightly. He walked into the main room of the house, looking for a candle and some matches. He found the matches in a cabinet and the candle on the windowsill. He took a match and lit the candle, watching the dim light source flicker in the otherwise pitch black room.

He contemplated what had happened that day. About what England said. His words were sharp, blunt and violent to say the least. But most of all, He thought of America. The young colony under England's rule. He thought about his optimism, strength, energy and that smile of his that could light up a room. And how it all went away when England was around. He knew all the young colony wanted was affection, he could see it in his eyes. But his thought's were interrupted as there was a knock at the door...

America knocked on the door, not knowing if France would be awake or not. He began to grow impatient and knocked again hoping for some sort of response. He sighed heavily as he crossed his arm's trying to keep warm. The cold was unbearable. The rain fell on him as he stared at the sky. He would wait all night if he had to. The door slowly opened, only to reveal a shocked France.

"Amerique, what are you doing here?!" France asked, shocked.

"I-I n-n-need a p-place to s-stay for the night." The American stuttered.

France adverted his gaze to the colony's shirt. It was completely covered in blood, as was the rest of his clothing. Looking upward toward the Americans face, he saw a bruise on his left cheek. He looked at his eyes and saw that he had been crying. He felt terrible.

"Come inside, I have a room you can use." Said France, still in shock.

"Th-thank you." America replied.

The two men went inside, enjoying the warmth of the residence. France turned to face the American and saw that he was shivering. His dry cracked lips were slightly quivering as he tried to speak.

"C-can y-you show me where the bed is?" He asked nervously.

"Of course, right this way." France said, mentally slapping himself for not thinking that he would be tired.

He led him to the bedroom through the dimly lit hallway of his house. The floors were hardwood and the walls were painted white. There were various paintings hung up on the walls he saw as they passed by. When they arrived at the bedroom, He saw the same hardwood floor and the walls were the same color. The bed had a brown post which looked dusty from lack of use, the sheets were a dark shade of burgundy with gold embroidery.

T-Thank you for letting me stay, France". America said as a light shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

"You are most welcome, Amerique." France replied.

America said his goodnight's and with that he was off to the bedroom. Exhausted, he went under the covers and fell asleep...

France went into the bedroom to make sure he was okay. He walked in slowly and quietly in an attempt to not wake the peacefully sleeping nation. He softly caressed his cheek and kissed him softly before exiting the room. It was from this point on he knew that he had feelings for the young colony.


End file.
